“So what happened to Dunc’s Mustang?” asked Chase.
“I don’t know. All I know is that he didn’t have it anymore.”
“He didn’t say where it ended up?”
“No. All I know is that he got rid of it at some point.”
“Dumped it in a lake, maybe? Or the junkyard?”
“He never said. And I’m afraid I never asked, either.”
Chase studied her for a moment.“Have you told us the truth this time, Justina?”
She looked up.“Yes, I have, detective—I swear.”
After Justina had left, Chase looked thoughtful.“So if Dunc didn’t drive his Mustang that night, who did?”
“There’s only one person left who can tell us,” said Odelia.
Chase nodded.“Omar Wissinski.” He grabbed his jacket. “I think we better have a chat with our Mr. Wissinski.”
“What about Dominic?”
“Oh, he can think about his sins some more.”
Moments later, we were in Chase’s car, driving back to the Keystone Mall—though very soon now it would probably change its name to Timpermall Hampton Keys. At least if the standoff between the Hampton Keys mayor and the Timperleys was resolved.
The security guard planted in front of Omar Wissinski’s office stepped aside when Chase showed him his credentials and even opened the door for us.
“If this guy keeps standing there,” I said, “business will become very slow for Omar.”
“Why?” asked Dooley. “Don’t you think people will like knowing they’re safe inside?”
“I doubt it, Dooley. This isn’t a jewelry store or a bank. It’s just an insurance agency. People will start to think that Omar is up to something funny with their money.”
“Like investing it in a bitcoin scheme, you mean?”
I smiled.“Something like that.”
Omar looked a little harried when we stepped into his office. Or I should probably say even more harried than the last time we saw him, on the roof of his friend Sergio’s house.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, shifting nervously in his seat. “I called the station but they said you were busy. And yet here you are. Quick work, detective. And I appreciate it! So I want you to arrest Kristina Careen and her son Rick. I know that Kristina has you all fooled into thinking she’s arachnophobic.”
“Agoraphobic,” Odelia corrected him.
“Whatever. But that’s just a ruse, see? She’s been coming and going without anyone noticing, and murdering my friends! As I see it, she killed Joel and Dunc, while Dominic killed Jona and Sergio and tried to kill me. And their son Rick is assisting them both!”
“And you have proof of this, sir?” asked Chase.
Omar’s face fell. “Proof! I don’t need proof. Isn’t it obvious? The woman is dangerous! There’s a reason we all took out a restraining order against her and her family. But that hasn’t stopped her. Oh, no. On the contrary. She’s on a rampage. A murder spree!”
“We’re actually not here about that,” said Chase, holding up his hand to stem the flow of words.
“You’re not?” asked Omar, his face expressing his surprise.
“We talked to Dunc’s fianc?e, and she told us that Dunc didn’t drive his Mustang that night—the car that was implicated in the hit and run that killed Poppy Careen.”
“He didn’t?”
“No. Dunc said you swapped cars, and someone else was driving his Mustang.”
Omar was silent for a moment, as he stared at Chase and Odelia, who were clearly expecting an answer. The insurance man licked his lips nervously.
“So who was it, Omar?” asked Chase. “Who was driving Dunc’s car?”
Omar finally relented.“Okay, so we were street racing that night.”
“In the Careens’ neighborhood?”
“Yes. The reason we didn’t tell you is obvious, I think. But now that he’s gone…”
“Who was it, Omar? Who was behind the wheel?”
Omar heaved a deep sigh and seemed to deflate like a balloon.“Sergio,” he said quietly. “We all swore an oath never to tell. A pact, you know. All for one and one for all and all that. We knew it could have been either one of us who’d gotten into that fatal accident, so we decided to close ranks. If anyone had found out that Sergio was behind the wheel of that car, his life would have been over. He never would have had the career he had.”
“Who came up with the idea to take the car to Jefferson Gusta?”
“Joel. His dad was a regular customer of the Gusta Garage, and he knew that Gusta wouldn’t mind accepting some money under the table in exchange for a rush job. He also knew that Gusta wouldn’t talk. Joel’s dad had been in a minor accident and when he took his car to Gusta things had been handled discreetly, so Joel knew he could trust Gusta.”
“So he fixed up Dunc’s Mustang?”
“Yeah, and Joel paid him a large sum of money to make sure he kept his mouth shut.”
“What happened to the Mustang?”
“Dunc drove around with it for another couple of years, until it broke down and Gusta agreed to take it to a wrecker. It probably got demolished, the parts sold as scrap.”
“So the car is gone, huh?”
“Yeah, unless Gusta kept it, but I don’t think he did. He was as good as his word.”
Chase nodded.“You should have told us sooner, Omar,” he said. “If you had, your friends might still be alive now.”
“I know,” said Omar, a haunted look in his eyes. “But I couldn’t.”
“Yeah, I know. The bachelor pact.” He got up. “You’re not going to do anything stupid about Kristina and her son, are you, Omar?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Omar.
“I think you do.” He fixed the man with a serious look, and finally Omar looked away. “Cause if anything happens to that woman or to Rick, I’ll know where to find you.”
And with these words, we left the office.
Chapter 35
Odelia had dropped us in town, and since I was feeling a little peckish, I decided it was high time we paid a visit to Kingman again. Also, I was completely stuck, with the case not moving the way I wanted it to move. And for some reason a visit to Kingman often manages to get me unstuck. I don’t know what it is about that voluminous cat, but he seems to spread these nuggets of wisdom, even if he’s fully unaware of it, that never fail to point me in the right direction.
“Hiya, fellas,” he said as we walked up. He gestured to a full bowl of a sort of greenish-brownish kibble. “Taste it at your own peril,” he said. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“What is it?” asked Dooley as he gave it a sniff.
“I’m not sure. Some Russian fella dropped it off this morning, and said the stuff is very popular with their Russian cats. I think he mentioned peas and spinach?”
I wrinkled up my nose.“I don’t like peas or spinach,” I said.
“Who does?”
“Have you tried it?”
“One nugget. I upchucked it the moment it went down.” He pointed to a sad-looking lonely piece of kibble on the sidewalk, that indeed looked as if it had been in someone’s stomach recently.
So I kindly declined to sample this Russian kibble, and lay down next to my friend.
“How is the case going?”
“Don’t ask,” I said. “We’ve got one guy in jail right now, who refuses to tell us where he’s been, and it looks as if he’s the one behind the whole thing.”
He looked over to me.“But you’re not fully convinced, are you?”
“Not really. I mean, why wait thirteen years to start murdering the men you think are responsible for your daughter’s death?”